Burn
by Kylara Kitsune
Summary: He's a spy. She's his Order liaison. Hating each other doesn't stop the sparks from flying.


**AN: Wow, it has been a long time. And here we are again. Not my characters, of course. Draco/Ginny, rating for language and what they are doing.**

They glared at each other, silver meeting brown in a blaze of hatred, holding their ground for just a few more moments. She moved first, taking a few rapid steps forward and bringing up her right hand as if to hit him. He couldn't stop the involuntary flinch as the movement dredged up a memory of another brown-eyed girl making a similar movement, but when she grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him back into the wall, the long-ago incident was just as swiftly forgotten. This was how it had started between them, a furious argument followed by frantic ripping of clothes, and equally heated, fierce sex against the wall of whatever dingy hideout they'd been meeting in that time. Lips had crashed together, and he could remember clear as day that she had been the one to go further than that admittedly hot and heavy kiss, pulling impatiently at his belt buckle and then the waistband of his trousers. Definitely not the innocent he'd thought she'd be, although her lack of experience had made itself known since then.

Not that he had any complaints about their first time together, it was still one of his favourite memories. He'd spun them round so she was the one with her back against the wall, pushed her skirt up and her knickers down. That was when she'd broken the kiss to tell him to hurry up and fuck her already. So he had, shoving his own clothes aside just enough to push into her, not slowly, but not too hard either, not yet. For some reason he wasn't going to question, she wanted him, and since he'd been lusting after her for years, he was damn well going to take whatever he could get. Even if it was up against a wall in a basement of extremely dubious cleanliness.

"Harder, you bastard. Fuck me." The words were quiet, but still full of feeling as she breathed them into his ear. Not needing to be told again, he'd lifted her and her legs wrapped around his hips, before he started moving; long, slow strokes at first, then faster since it really did seem to be what she wanted. Her fingernails dug into his back and shoulders through the thin shirt he wore, a small but sharp bite of pain that somehow turned him on even more, a thing he hadn't thought possible, but there it was. He'd growled, actually growled, and thrust his hips into her as hard as he could, then again. That had been enough to push her over the edge, and the cry she let out, combined with the clenching around him that she couldn't have controlled if she'd wanted to, had set off his own orgasm.

Somehow, they hadn't collapsed in a heap on the floor, although he'd never understand how, the sensations had been so strong. Afterwards, they'd simply sorted out their clothing, murmured the appropriate cleaning spells, before he told her that he'd send her an owl with the details of their next meeting. She nodded once and disapparated, leaving him standing there wondering just what, exactly, had happened.

Since then, every single meeting had ended the same way. Oh, sometimes he made the first move, but usually it was her. Always rough, fast, even the time he'd pushed her down onto the table and proceeded to lick and suck until she'd screamed, her hands pulling at his hair. She liked having her hair pulled too, especially when he was already balls deep inside her, or their tongues were battling for dominance. He knew he was her dirty secret, the illicit affair she would never be able to admit, but the chances of them both surviving this war were not high. He was spying, passing on whatever he could find out. She was his Order liaison, chosen for the role because, despite the long-standing enmity between their families, and the fierce arguments they had to this day, she was the only one able to tolerate him for long enough to get the information passed on regularly. It couldn't be put in writing, the chances of interception just weren't worth the risk. Not when everyone's lives were at stake. They'd never been civil to each other, but they could work together. And then, a few months ago, she'd pounced on him and he still didn't know why. One day, he'd ask her. Maybe she'd even tell him. But for now…

His back against the wall, stinging a little from the hard contact with the unexpectedly rough surface. His belt unfastened, trousers and underwear pushed to his ankles. Her hot mouth sliding over him. Now this wasn't something she did often, and he never asked. Their entire tryst was on her terms, and that was ok by him. He slid his fingers through her long, red hair, gripping tightly and causing her to moan around him. He watched as she licked the length of him, then glanced up with wide eyes.

"Do that again."

"Do what?"

She blushed, something she still did occasionally when asked to vocalise her desires.

"Pull my hair and move my head like that." Her eyes had dropped away from his, the blush deeper now. Ah. She wanted him to take control, act as though he was using her for nothing more than his own pleasure. She had explained this one to him, since he'd previously refused to do any such thing until he understood, and could be sure they were on the same page.

 _"_ _I'm supposed to be the good girl," she'd told him, "the one that doesn't do anything like this. I'm not the fragile little flower they all want me to be. I won't break. I like, I want, I need it harder, I need you to just take me."_

Gripping her hair more firmly, he pulled her so she was looking at him once more. "Open your mouth."

She did, and he felt her slide over him once more, a contented sigh escaping as she did so.

She was still on her knees, he thrusting gently into her mouth, when the explosion in the doorway startled them both.


End file.
